


Break A Leg

by ThoseFiveChicks



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ballet, Alternate Universe - Dancers, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Anxiety Disorder, Blood Drinking, M/M, Roommates, Vampire!Lance, character with anxiety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2016-12-05
Packaged: 2018-09-06 17:32:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8762461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThoseFiveChicks/pseuds/ThoseFiveChicks
Summary: Hunk's already stressed enough about putting on a performance at a new stage and rooming with a complete stranger. He doesn't need to deal with his roommate getting sick on top of that.He does anyway.





	

Anxiety was nothing new to Hunk. He’d had it since middle school, though he’d only realized it was an actual disorder last year. Technically, he hadn’t even been the one to figure it out– Pidge had been tooling around the internet and had stumbled across some random post with a list of symptoms. Considering that Pidge had once had to hold his hand just so he could order food in a restaurant without bolting for the door, Hunk had figured she’d known what she was talking about when she’d nearly kicked down his door trying to show him the post. A year later and Hunk had hit what seemed like the perfect dose of anxiety meds, and now he was doing things he’d never thought possible.

Case in point.

The theater was huge. That was the first thing Hunk noticed, how huge it was. The stage back at his school was tiny even as high-school stages went, barely big enough to be  _ called _ a stage, and while the studio where he practiced was slightly more impressive it still had nothing on this. The ceiling was tall enough that it started to disappear into the gloom, and the lighting booth must’ve had a switchboard the size of his old stage to control all the spotlights he could barely see up there. Velvet seats stretched back in row after row, and Hunk’s chest tightened at the thought of every one of them being filled. At the thought of having to stand on this huge, impressive stage as his unimpressive self and stare out at all those people.

A voice came from the front of the group, and Hunk tore himself away. Forced himself to peek out from where he was hiding behind his classmates so he could see his teacher.

Nelia Léon had been his dance instructor since he was six. She was half mom, half drill sergeant, and had been the one his mother turned to to teach him after the instructor of the town’s bigger dance studio had said no one of his ‘body type’ would be able to do ballet. Hunk had known what that meant, even at age six, and when Nelia had asked him why he wanted to join her class he’d petulantly muttered that he was too fat for the other one.

Nelia had laughed, shrugging her own more-than-ample shoulders. “Never stopped me,” she’d said, and after that first class it had never stopped Hunk either. Not even his anxiety had chased him out of her studio, and as he looked at her standing confidently on this impossibly big stage, he firmed his resolve that it wouldn’t chase him out of here. He could feel his nerves clawing at his insides, but they were the claws of kittens rather than the claws of tigers. Painful, yes. So  _ very _ painful. But not life-threatening, not with his medication to lean on. Not for the first time, Hunk felt incredibly thankful to those tiny off-white pills for enabling him to take a trip out of town with only his classmates to accompany him. As scary as this was, as  _ new _ as it was, he knew he wouldn’t have been able to do it last year.

He was making progress.

“Aryeh’s class won’t arrive for another hour,” Nelia said– not raising her voice, but still speaking loud enough to be heard. Hunk listened to the way her words echoed off the walls, so unlike the dampened sound of the auditorium at his high school. He loved this stage already, even with its terrifyingly large audience. “That gives us enough time to warm up and go through our routines before they get here. I know you’re all as excited as I am to be here and to work with another talented group of performers, but I’d like to remind you–” and here Nelia clapped her hands together with a stern look on her face. “Hinto Aryeh is one of my oldest friends and we’re here on her invitation. I expect you to show her and her students the same respect you show to me and to each other. Again, there’s a no-tolerance rule for behavioral issues on this trip, and if I hear of any unbecoming behavior from any of you I’ll be sending you home early, and I’m sure nobody wants that.”

Her serious eyes brightened, and her hands spread apart once more, gesturing loosely into the air. She talked with her hands. It was like she was dancing even when standing still. “Now, time to warm up!”

Nelia’s idea of  _ warming up _ was more intense than most people could handle. By the time the other group of students showed up, Hunk and his classmates were out of breath and out of energy, having run the routines about four times instead of the once that Nelia had initially said. It was a pleasant kind of exhaustion though, and Hunk was grinning to himself by the time they were done, anxiety about the new venue nearly forgotten. When he was dancing, it was like that panicky ball of energy inside of him no longer existed. When he was dancing, when a routine came together as his group moved to the same beat, he didn’t care how many seats were in the audience or that there was no mom or Pidge to stand at his shoulder and help him through the obstacles of life.

The last notes of the final routine rang out and Nelia beamed at them, bouncing on the balls of her feet with excitement. “That was  _ excellent _ ,” she gushed, nodding as if agreeing with her own assessment of the class. Hunk’s grin spread wider. He could see his classmates smiling tired smiles as well, catching their breath with Nelia’s contagious happiness flooding their lungs. “Oh, you’re all just going to  _ love _ working with Aryeh’s class! I’ve told her so much about you and she’s told me so much about  _ her _ students– I just  _ know _ you’re all going to get along fantastically! I can’t wait for you all to meet your roommates–”

And that was, of course, the only thing that could make Hunk’s stomach do a nervous flip while he was still coming down from the high of managing a routine without messing up once.  _ Roommates _ . He’d never been one to share his space with strangers– it’s even hard for him to do it with friends, sometimes. He’d bailed out of more than one slumber party with Pidge just because his brain refused to let him sleep somewhere with another person in it. People are all well and good, people are great, but Hunk can’t be around them too long without having to retreat into solitude. Solitude he won’t have with his roommate, some guy named Lance McClain, occupying the same space as him for the few days leading up to the performance.

But then, this trip was about pushing himself, wasn’t it? Hunk got a slice of road-stop pizza on the bus ride up with nobody to help him order– he thought he might, maybe,  _ possibly _ , be able to handle having a roommate for a few days. Nelia said this trip was about making new friends, and while that might not be Hunk’s goal, it might turn out the same end result anyway.

Voices echoed in the hall behind the stage. Hunk turned just in time to see a blur in a blue shirt whip by him, a blur that only resolved itself into a person after colliding with his dance instructor in a crushing hug. Hinto Aryeh– and Hunk  _ assumed _ that was who the strange lady clinging to Nelia was– was a tall woman with dark hair and sparkling eyes. She smiled like she was baring her teeth, but it wasn’t any less friendly for it.

The other class entered with only slightly less enthusiasm than her, and from his spot on the stage Hunk eyed them cautiously, trying to decide which one of them looked like a  _ Lance _ . The boy with the blonde hair and freckles? The kid with unnaturally red bangs and no less than six piercings?

Nelia managed to extricate herself from Aryeh’s happy entanglement and turned to address her class once more.

“Alright, if you hadn’t guessed, this is Hinto Aryeh! Take five everyone, you’ve been working really hard the last hour– get a drink of water, introduce yourselves, try to find your roommates!”

Initiating conversation with strangers? Uh, no. Hunk had done a lot of new things since he’d left home yesterday but getting himself trapped in a web of social confusion wasn’t going to be one of them. He opted for Nelia’s first suggestion instead, heading to the back of the stage. There was a door that led off to the side, a door with a bathroom sign and an arrow next to it– restrooms and water fountains went together, and Hunk went through the door.

Even the hall behind the stage was impressive. The floors were clean white marble that his shoes made satisfying  _ pwap _ s against, and the lighting was neither sterile fluorescent or dim incandescent. Some mix of both, he guessed. The bathroom was easy to locate, and just as he’d thought, there were two water fountains of differing height just in front of it. Two of his classmates had gotten there before him, Chris and Danielle, and Hunk waited patiently behind them.

Even the  _ walls _ were a prettier shade of white than his school’s. How could a shade of white be prettier than another shade of white?

Chris stood, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, and as he walked away Hunk stooped over the fountain he’d vacated. Enjoyable or not, dancing was a lot of exercise, and the flush in his cheeks had yet to fully go away. Water would help, and Hunk took a sip from the curling loop of water, then a gulp and–

“Hey there, big guy!”

A hand thudded against his back and Hunk spewed water back into the fountain in front of him, mostly from his mouth but some managing to force its way up his nose. He reeled back, the burn in his nostrils not as bad as the hurt to his pride as he wiped his arm on the back of his mouth, stared down at the damp patches on the front of his shirt in embarrassment.

“ _ Dude _ ,” he spluttered, indignant, before looking up to see who exactly had just made him dribble all over himself like a two-year-old.

To his credit, the dude in question was wincing. He was taller than hunk, lankier too, not– Hunk would say it– fat. He looked like he’d blow over in a light breeze, a tumbleweed of brown skin and hair, but the whack Hunk had just received seemed to speak otherwise.

“Sorry,” the boy said, then again a little louder, “ _ Sorry! _ I didn’t mean to freak you out there! I’m– wow, this is a bad introduction. I’m Lance, your roommate? I mean, if you  _ are _ Hunk, and the guy onstage said you headed back here but I could still be totally wrong and have gotten the wrong guy.  _ Are _ you Hunk?”

Danielle shot him a sympathetic look as she finished at the fountain, then walked off down the hallway and abandoned him to the mercies of his roommate. Hunk finished wiping the water off his chin and managed a smile through his embarrassment.

“Yeah, that’s me,” he said, trying not to look like a guy who just snorted water out his nose. He didn’t know if he was successful or not and the claws of anxiety were back in his stomach again. So  _ this _ was his roommate.

His roommate was cute.

The claws dug in harder.

Lance smiled, planting a hand against the wall behind the water fountains. He leaned against it, looking for all the world like a greaser flirt had stepped out of the forties and into the body of a modern latino dancer. Hunk’s heart did something interesting in his chest that he wasn’t sure made any biological sense.

“Thought so,” Lance said. “You  _ look _ like a hunk.”

Hunk was still trying to work out if that was a compliment or just a pun when Lance’s feet, the ones planted on the tiles Hunk had just inadvertently spewed water on, went out from under him. He slipped in a fantastic style, falling hard and nearly banging his head against the water fountains on the way down, and Hunk went from flustered to concerned in the time it took for Lance to hit the floor in a heap.

“Oh God, are you okay?” he asked, hands twisting and fluttering with anxious movement. He forced them to still, reached down to try to help Lance up. Lance was flushed, embarrassed, face tight with pain as Hunk babbled. “I mean– obviously not, you’re totally not okay, you just  _ fell _ , should I get a teacher? Did you break anything? Wait, which teacher should I get, should I get my teacher or your teacher or–”

Lance accepted his hand and pulled himself upright. For a moment, his jaw remained tight, and one of his hands came up to press against his mouth in what Hunk could only assume was a nervous gesture. Or an embarrassed one. Hunk stopped talking, aware he was babbling only after he’d done it and kicking himself for it.

When Lance took his hand away, he was smiling again, this time less flirty and more genuine.

“I, uh– I think I just fell for you?” he said, and it came out as more of a question than a pickup line.

Without meaning to, Hunk laughed.

It turned out that rooming with Lance wasn’t as much of a nightmare as Hunk’s anxiety had made it out to be. Few things were. He didn’t do anything disruptive like play loud rap music at night, and when Hunk used the shower after him it smelled like foreign flowers and strange kinds of oil he wasn’t sure he’d ever heard of, far better than the axe products he’d been worried about. The first night, they were both too exhausted to stay up late, having practiced for hours until the auditorium was needed by another group. They’d grabbed food on the way back to the hotel, or rather,  _ Hunk _ had grabbed food– Lance said he’d eaten on the bus ride up and he was still pretty full. While Hunk ate, Lance filled the nervous air with easy conversation.

“Yeah, I mostly do Jazz and Tap, but Aryeh’s been my instructor for years now and when she was getting a group together for the trip she invited me even though this isn’t my usual style. She said if I wasn’t confident I could do the routine I could opt out at any time, but well, here we are!” Lance shrugged. “I’m not gonna say it wasn’t tricky to step outside of my comfort zone like that, but that’s what this was all about, y’know?”

Hunk nodded.  _ More than you know _ , he thought, but didn’t say. He’d already coughed up water in front of Lance, he wasn’t going to spray him with food too by trying to talk with his mouth full.

Lance let out a low whistle. “And  _ man _ , that  _ stage! _ It’s  _ huge _ , dude! I don’t think we’d all be able to  _ fit _ on the stage back in my hometown, but this feels like  _ just _ the right number of people for a space this big. I can’t  _ wait _ till we actually get to  _ perform! _ ”

Hunk nodded again, though his feelings were more mixed than that. He was excited about the performance, of course he was, he’d just. . . prefer it if they could perform their set with absolutely nobody in any of those velvet chairs. The thought gave him butterflies, and it just felt bizarre next to the cat scratches.

He guessed the conflict didn’t show on his face though, because Lance’s grin didn’t falter as he kept talking. He smiled a lot. It was a good quality. It reminded Hunk of Nelia, in a way, though her smiles were more proud beam and Lance’s were more like Aryeh’s had been. A friendly, enthusiastic baring of teeth.

Aryeh ran practice the next day. Nelia had done most of the instructing the day before, so Hunk guessed it was only fair. Aryeh had a different style of teaching– while Nelia would pause them throughout the routine and let them know then and there if there were areas to improve, Aryeh held her comments until they finished the full piece. Hunk didn’t know if he liked Nelia’s way better or if he was just more used to it after years of working with her, but Aryeh was still a good instructor either way. Just different. Hunk found himself glancing at Lance throughout practice, watching his roommate navigate the steps and twists of the routine– for a guy who mostly did Tap and Jazz, his movements were more fluid than even some of Hunk’s fellow Classical kids. If Lance hadn’t told him, Hunk wouldn’t have known it wasn’t his typical style. Then again, both groups  _ had _ been practicing these routines for months– Lance would have had plenty of time to get used to the difference.

He was weirdly pale when they got back to the hotel.

“Are you okay, man?” Hunk asked. Lance’s smile had just a second of delay to it.

“What? Of course, dude, why do you ask?”

Hunk wasn’t sure how exactly to articulate the thought that Lance looked  _ grey _ under his dark skin. So he just shrugged. “I dunno, you just– you look kinda sick.”

Lance laughed. Swatted him on the shoulder, thankfully nowhere near as hard as he’d hit him when Hunk had been standing at the water fountain. “Hunk. Buddy. The performance is the day after tomorrow. I don’t care if I pass out onstage, I’m doing this no matter what.”

When they got back to their room, Lance got in the shower and Hunk sat on his bed. They’d both been made neatly while the two of them were out, though whoever had cleaned had been kind enough to tuck Lance’s teddy bear into the sheets on his one of the twins. It sat there like it was waiting for him to come back, a cozy little piece of home under unfamiliar blankets.

Hunk texted Pidge about the possibility of Lance getting sick, how awful that would be after the months of work that had gone into getting here. Pidge, predictably, responded with a quip about zombies that made Hunk laugh through his nerves, and he promised that if Lance  _ had _ come down with some strain of zombie virus he’d bring him back to Pidge to study.

He thought Lance and Pidge would get along.

He dozed off waiting for Lance to get out of the shower. When he woke up he was groggy, unwilling to climb under a rousing spray of water and much more inclined to crawl under his covers instead. In fact, for a moment he wasn’t even sure what had woken him.

Then he looked up and saw Lance standing at his bedside, hair still wet from the shower, eyeing him like he wasn’t actually there. Like Hunk had become some Hunk-shaped window into another universe and Lance was trying to puzzle out what it was he saw. He looked fascinated by it.

“Uh,” Hunk said, articulately, and Lance jolted out of his daze. His gaze snapped to Hunk’s, alert once more. His copper brown eyes crinkled in an embarrassed laugh.

“Hah, sorry! Didn’t mean to stare, I just got lost in thought.” Lance backed up, over to his own bed, and set about kicking off his slippers. “I was just gonna let you know I’m out of the shower. You can use it now.”

Hunk yawned. Rolled over. He waved vaguely at Lance over his shoulder. “M’too tired now. I’ll take one in the morning.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you do that buddy. Remember we gotta be there by nine, though.”

Hunk hummed something that was supposed to be agreement but wound up just noise. His last thought before falling asleep for the night was that he’d thought Lance had  _ blue _ eyes.

He woke up before Lance did the next morning. He was quiet, careful not to wake him, because Lance looked even sicker than he had the day before. There were dark circles under his eyes despite the fact that he was currently sleeping, and he clung to his teddy bear (Sir Bearington, he’d told Hunk it was called) like it was the only lifeline in a wild storm. Hunk frowned sympathetically. He knew how Lance felt– nothing would keep Hunk from performing if he was sick. Lance would push through it even if he didn’t get any better. Lance would push through it even if he  _ didn’t _ get any better.

He still hoped he would, though.

His shower ran on a little longer than he’d meant it to– the warm water just felt  _ so good _ against his stiff muscles that Hunk couldn’t help but take his time. It wasn’t like he’d never been pushed hard before, but the past two days had been a lot– they were going to take it easier today so they weren’t sore tomorrow, spend the afternoon taking a bit of a break and getting to see the city. Hunk had a feeling Lance would wind up dragging him around by the elbow to all the different sights, and the kitten claws of anxiety didn’t deter him from the possibility. It actually sounded. . . nice.

By the time he got dried off and dressed, Lance was awake. Hunk could hear him moving around in the bedroom as he brushed his teeth at the sink, heard him approach the bathroom door and knock. Hunk unlocked the door for him and a groggy Lance opened it, snickering quietly when he saw Hunk’s toothbrush sticking out of his mouth. Hunk went back to the sink as Lance passed behind him, probably retrieving one of his many beauty products.

“Hey, we should totally both do facemasks tonight,” Lance suggested– even with that tired slur to his words, it didn’t do much to dampen his enthusiasm. “We’ll look great for tomorrow and you can introduce me to that show you were talking about yesterday while they set– oh, you can wear the one that has a dragon on it, buddy!”

Hunk spit a mouthful of toothpaste into the sink, clearing out his mouth so he could reply. He looked up at the mirror so he could see Lance, see that lazy grin he’d decided he liked on his new friend.

He didn’t.

Didn’t see the grin, didn’t see  _ Lance _ .

Hunk blinked, then looked behind him. Lance was definitely there, definitely looking down at the boxes in his hands, the ones that had, yes, a dragon on one and a tiger on the other. Hunk looked back at the mirror, chest tightening. Still no Lance in the reflection, but when Hunk moved slightly to his right, he could see the two boxes suspended in the air, like they were floating.

“Uh,” he said, just as articulate as the night before, and the tension in his voice must have been apparent because Lance looked up. Saw Hunk glancing between him and the mirror.

Lance tensed.

Hunk whirled around, pressing his back against the counter behind him. He clutched his toothbrush like it would be able to protect him against something other than plaque.

“I can explain,” Lance tried, but Hunk’s stomach was lacerated with tiger claws, anxiety put to good use, and he babbled with words put to a much  _ less _ good one.

“Oh my God. Oh my God, you’re a vampire. You’re totally a vampire. Oh my God, are you going to kill me? You’re totally going to kill me now that I know you’re a vampire aren’t you, oh God. Look, I won’t tell anyone, I just– oh my God. I knew your eyes were blue. Your eyes were blue and now they’re red, that’s not brown that’s  _ red _ . Okay, okay  _ look _ , my best friend is short and tiny but she’ll find you and murder you if you kill me, she’s  _ scary _ and she’s good at detective work and–”

“I’m _not_ going to _kill_ _you!_ ” Lance blurted, and Hunk stopped trying to edge towards the door. It was the slightly incredulous edge to Lance’s voice that did it, the note of disbelief that Hunk would even _say_ that. It suddenly dawned on Hunk what a ridiculous picture the two of them made, him gripping his toothbrush with white knuckles and Lance holding his facemasks up in front of his chest like some kind of shield.

Hunk thought he might be hyperventilating. This felt like what he thought hyperventilating felt like. His heart was pounding in his ears and wow, he was pretty sure he was having an anxiety attack. He hadn’t had one in months, not since he went on his new dosage.

He swallowed. “Okay. Okay, good, sorry, kinda jumped to conclusions there but  _ good _ , not killing me is  _ great _ . You. You don’t have a reflection though, and you can’t deny that because we’re both looking at it right now, and there’s the eye thing, and you kinda look dead right now, no offense,  _ please don’t kill me _ .”

“I’m not going to,” Lance repeated, a little calmer this time. He was still tense. “I mean– okay, you’re right, I’m a vampire, cat’s out of the bag. But I’m not going to hurt you, okay buddy?”

The term of endearment almost made Hunk flinch, but at the last second it changed to something reassuring. Right. This was  _ Lance _ . And Hunk might have only met him a couple days ago but he didn’t seem like a bad guy and  _ ohgod this was why Hunk had never actually seen him eat _ .

“You’re still freaking out,” Lance noted. Hunk nodded. Lance could probably hear his heartbeat anyway, no point lying.

“Anxiety,” he said, one-word answer, because if he tried anything longer he thought he’d start babbling again and he’d already done it enough.

Lance’s smile was weak but present. “Yeah, kinda figured. Sorry.”

The apology caught Hunk a off-guard. His grip on his toothbrush loosened. Tightened. Loosened again. “For what?” he asked.

“For freaking you out. I, um. I’m gonna put these down–” and here he lifted the facemasks a little, indicating them, “–and how about we talk this out, okay? If you want, you can sit on your bed and I’ll sit on mine. Y’know. Safe distance.”

That. . . sounded good. Better than good, actually. He was accommodating Hunk’s anxiety and fear in a way only his mom and Pidge ever had. Hunk carefully set his toothbrush down on the counter.

“Okay,” he said carefully.

Lance’s smile steadied some. “Okay,” he repeated, and Hunk backed out of the bathroom and over to his bed as Lance put the facemasks away. He watched his every move, watched as Lance gave him a wide berth as he walked over to his bed.

He held Sir Bearington in his lap as he faced Hunk, legs folded and fingers curling through the teddy bear’s short fur. He didn’t look like he was about to attack Hunk. He just looked. . . sick.

Lance glanced at his watch. Looked back up at Hunk.

“It’s eight fifteen. With fifteen minutes to get there and fifteen minutes for us to finish getting ready, that only leaves us fifteen minutes for questions. Sorry. We can do the full Q and A later but I don’t think either of us wanna be late to practice.”

Practice. Right. They had practice later. Hunk nodded and his next words were completely unrelated.

“Sorry about freaking out,” he said. Lance blinked at him as if surprised, then gave him a half-smile and a half-shrug.

“You just found out your roommate is a vampire. You’re allowed to freak out. Actually, this isn’t the worst reaction I’ve ever gotten– one of my friends tried to stab me when he pieced it together. I was running around his coffee table trying to avoid him and we both kept slipping because it was a tile floor and we were both wearing socks.”

Despite himself, Hunk laughed. Lance’s smile became more like that friendly baring of teeth Hunk had gotten used to, rather than a pale watered-down imitation.

“Um. If I only have fifteen minutes, then I guess– big question first. Uh– blood. You. Drinking?”

Lance was either better at piecing together a fragmented sentence than most people or he’d gotten the question before.

“No, I don’t attack people. It does have to be human, but y’know. Red cross and all that. I mean, obviously I could just  _ seduce _ my way into biting people–” and here he wiggled his eyebrows in a motion that was probably supposed to be sexy but was instead ridiculous. It wound up endearing. “–but the friend I mentioned who tried to stab me cooled down afterwards and now he helps out when I need the fresh stuff. Which I do, but not like. Often.”

“So is that why you look sick? You haven’t had the uh. The fresh stuff?” Hunk asked, and he couldn’t help the note of concern that slipped into his voice. Lance might be a vampire, but he was also a dancer in Hunk’s performance group who said crappy pickup lines and made the shower smell like cocoa butter. Hunk didn’t want him  _ sick _ . Not before a  _ performance _ .

Lance pressed Sir Bearington’s paws together. Let them spring apart with the natural movement of cloth coming back to its favored state. “More like I haven’t had  _ anything _ . Couldn’t exactly bring a cooler of blood bags– they checked everyone’s bags for drugs before we got on the bus here.” He looked up, met Hunk’s eyes with his own now-copper ones. Despite his ashy skin, he attempted a reassuring smile. “I’ll be fine, though. I’m just a little more tired than usual, and we’re heading back after tomorrow anyway. It won’t be a problem.”

Hunk wanted to ask if  _ problem _ meant Lance attacking someone, or if it meant Lance passing out onstage like he’d said. He didn’t get the chance though, because Lance looked at his watch and jumped to his feet, startling Hunk into jumping himself. His attempt at backwards motion didn’t get him anywhere but toppling backwards off the bed, though, and from the floor and through the ringing in his ears he could hear the wince in Lance’s voice.

“Sorry. Just. We gotta get ready or we’re gonna be late.”

With the wind knocked out of him, Hunk’s only way to respond was holding up a thumbs-up.

He couldn’t stop staring at Lance during practice. It wasn’t that he looked any different than he had yesterday– same fluid movements, same dedication to the task at hand. He looked a little sicker, if anything, but Hunk knew why now. He wondered if it was good for Lance to be exerting himself like he was. He wondered if  _ problem _ meant attack or unconsciousness.

When he almost ran into JJ because his eyes were on Lance instead of where he was going, he had to force himself to stop wondering. Vampire or not, they were both here for the same reason, and if Lance could put this out of his head enough to focus on practicing then Hunk could too.

Lance didn’t get the chance to drag Hunk around the city by his elbow. Instead, they sat at a table for two in a Starbucks (public enough for Hunk’s nerves, private enough to talk) and Hunk asked Lance questions over mouthfuls of pumpkin spice. Lance had gotten a double chocolate chip frappuccino, and surprisingly it wasn’t just for show. He actually drank it, eliminating the need for Hunk to ask if he could consume anything other than blood.

He’d already texted Pidge that his roommate was a vampire. Of course he had. And of course she’d thought he was joking at first, but when he’d told her it was for real,  _ really _ for real, and he was completely freaking out about it, she’d believed him. If her tense texts were anything to go by, she was freaking out too. Now, sitting in a Starbucks watching Lance lick whipped cream off his nose, Hunk wasn’t quite sure what they were both freaking out  _ for _ .

“So can you like– can you turn into a bat?” he asked. He’d gotten the bigger questions out of the way already– yes there were other vampires, no they weren’t going to kill Hunk for knowing, no he wasn’t in any danger. No, Lance had never killed anyone.

“I  _ wish _ ,” Lance replied. He sighed into his frappuccino. “I’d be able to  _ fly _ if I could do that. But no, shapeshifting’s a pipe dream.”

“Are you, y’know, immortal?” Hunk asked, and remembered his mental image of Lance as a greaser when they’d first met. For all he knew, Lance really  _ was _ from the forties.

But Lance shook his head. “No. I mean, yes  _ and _ no. I can’t die from like, falling off a building or getting hit by a car but I still age and everything. I think living forever would kinda suck anyway.”

He grinned, and it took Hunk a second to figure out why. When he did, he groaned.

“You’re the  _ worst _ .”

Lance didn’t stop smiling. “Hey, now that you know I’m a vampire I can finally break out the vampire puns. Don’t blame me for embracing it, buddy.”

Hunk threw a napkin at him and decided Lance  _ probably _ wasn’t going to eat him.

The next morning, Lance looked even worse. Of course he did, Hunk knew why he looked bad in the first place now and it wasn’t something he was going to  _ get better _ from, not without drinking blood. Which was still totally squicking Hunk out, but he was getting better at not thinking about it.

Lance’s eyes had gotten redder. Not so much that he’d be recognized, picked out of a crowd, but enough that they were getting harder to brush away as brown anymore. Lance used the camera on his phone instead of the mirror when he was doing his morning skin care, and he prodded at the skin just under his eye with a grumble.

“They don’t look that bad?” Hunk tried to reassure him, but Lance just rolled his reddish eyes at him.

“Appreciate the effort there, Hunk buddy, but yeah they do. It’s driving me  _ batty _ .”

Hunk tried to hit him with a pillow but Lance ducked it, a smile on his lips as he walked over to the bathroom. “Today’s the day!” he said cheerfully, enough so that Hunk wasn’t sure if he’d really seen him falter for a moment when he tried to stand up.

In warmups, Lance started out great. He was perfect for the first ten minutes, then kept up for the next five, and it was only when they tried a quick run of their most complicated routine that he stumbled. Hunk watched it happen, waiting on the side for the cue for his line of dancers to enter, and Lance started to go up on one leg and instead went over. He crashed to the ground and JJ tripped over him, the dancers onstage ceasing their movements as ‘are you okay’s rang out. The music stopped a second later, paused by Aryeh, and when Lance sat up his dark skin looked sicklier than ever.

“Sorry,” he said to JJ, and he got to his feet. Helped JJ up. “Sorry,” he said to everyone, smile awkward and embarrassed, and if Hunk didn’t know what was happening he’d think Lance just stumbled over his own feet. Lance kept up that awkward smile as he backed up, walking towards the door that led to the bathrooms.

“Got dizzy there for a second, gonna grab some water!” he said by way of explanation, and though Aryeh sent a concerned look after him she didn’t argue. She moved to restart the music, waving everyone back into their positions, and Hunk didn’t see what happened after that because he ducked out of his line and followed Lance.

Lance was leaning against the water fountain with both hands, breathing heavy. Hunk couldn’t see his face from behind, but his shoulders and back said enough by themselves, tense and straining. Hunk was pretty sure his arms were shaking too. Away from the eyes of their classmates and teachers, Lance looked like he really was– exhausted.

Hunk fidgeted nervously. His hands twisted against each other. He wasn’t sure if Lance knew he was here. Jeez, okay, this was their fourth day here. . . four days without food. Maybe five, depending on when Lance’s class had started the trip here. Hunk was pretty sure that would take a toll on  _ anyone _ , and it was obvious Lance wasn’t as fine as he’d said he was going to be.

When he spoke, Hunk’s voice was timid. “Uh, Lance? Buddy? You okay?”

If he’d been expecting something violent, for Lance to whip around and rush him and pin him to the wall and bite him, it didn’t happen. Instead Lance laughed, turning so he was only leaning against the fountain with one hand instead of two. He brushed his damp bangs out of his eyes with his other hand.

“Yeah. I really did just get dizzy. I think I just need a minute, then I’ll be fine. Just a little lightheaded.”

Four days without food. Hunk bit his lip. Blurted out his next words without really thinking them through.

“How much do you, uh. How much do you take? You know, when you. When you bite people.”

The implication was obvious. Of course it was. Lance’s red eyes– and they  _ were _ red now, full red– widened.

“Hunk,” he started, and Hunk’s nervous words bulldozed over him.

“I mean, I’d prefer not to lose a lot of blood? Because, yeah, performance. I gotta be on that stage too. But you’re closer to the front than me for the most part and you have that one section in the Lindsey Stirling routine where you’re in a solo bit and, yeah, probably worse for you to be dizzy than me and–”

“ _ Hunk _ ,” Lance repeated, a bit more forcefully this time, and Hunk stopped talking.

Lance looked awful. He took a deep breath. Hunk braced himself.

“Thanks for offering. Seriously. It means a lot to me. But I’m not gonna bite you.”

Hunk blinked. “What?”

Lance stood up fully, friendly baring of teeth back in place. He looked confident and steady, like the tumble had never happened at all. “I’m fine, I really only needed a minute to rest. We can both go back out there and finish warming up.”

He walked forwards like he was going to pass Hunk and head back to the stage, reaching out to clap Hunk on the shoulder. “Thanks though. Really,” he repeated, and Hunk grabbed his wrist.

Lance stopped.

Hunk shifted his weight from foot to foot.

“Look, I don’t wanna be rude, and I know you’re the expert here and all, but you are  _ not _ fine, Lance. You’re ashy, you’re falling over, and you keep darting glances at my neck– no, don’t look away, I  _ know _ you were doing it. Lance, look, just–” Hunk broke off. Looked down at his shifting feet. Looked back up into Lance’s red eyes. “Please? Tell me if I can help?”

The moment stretched. Lance was looking into his eyes the same way he’d looked at Hunk a couple nights ago, like he was a Hunk-shaped window into something strange. Now, though, it was like Hunk himself was that strange something, like Lance was trying to figure  _ him _ out instead of that other dimension.

Lance swallowed. His eyes dipped to Hunk’s neck again, then back up.

“Yeah,” he said, and it sounded like an admission of defeat. “Yeah, yes. I– I won’t take that much, we can’t  _ both _ be dizzy.”

Hunk had never thought he’d feel  _ relieved _ about someone agreeing to drink his blood. He still wasn’t sure he was now. The relief was there, definitely, the relief that Lance was going to do something about the clumsiness and the red eyes, but nerves were peppering Hunk as well. He let go of Lance’s wrist, but then he wasn’t sure what to do with his hands, not until Lance took hold of his left arm and carefully lifted it.

Hunk’s breathing got a little quicker.

“You  _ really _ don’t have to do this,” Lance told him, but his eyes were locked on Hunk’s wrist. He wanted this, wanted this  _ so _ badly, but he was still giving Hunk a chance to back out.

“Bite me,” Hunk replied, and Lance looked away from his arm long enough to shoot Hunk an incredulous look.

“Was that a  _ pun? _ ” he asked, and there was an honest-to-God not-faked smile curling around the edges of his lips. A genuine good old friendly baring of teeth. Hunk could see the fangs lurking at the corners of his mouth like exclamation points.

Hunk shrugged. “Figured it was my turn,” he said, and Lance was still smiling when he bit him.

It hurt. Hunk gritted his teeth, and Lance slipped his teeth back out of Hunk’s flesh as soon as he’d punctured it, practiced ease in the movement despite the desperation in his slightly-too-tight grip. The pain lessened some without Lance’s fangs digging into him, a dull pain instead of a sharp one, and Hunk let out a shaky breath and Lance closed his mouth over the punctures and started to drink.

He made little slurping sounds against Hunk’s skin. He was neat, didn’t let blood spill out of his mouth or onto the floor, but he still slurped like a toddler who hadn’t been taught table manners yet. Despite the dull pain in his arm that sharpened each time Lance swallowed, Hunk gave a half-laugh.

True to his word, Lance didn’t take much. He pulled back after a few swallows, licked the blood off his lips and then off Hunk’s skin where it leaked from the bite mark. Another lick, one more, and the pain in Hunk’s arm was gone and his eyes widened as Lance released his arm. Hunk stared at the place where the punctures used to be, turning his wrist back and forth as if a different light would make the wound come back.

“Well that’s useful,” Hunk said absently, and Lance laughed. Hunk looked up at him.

His eyes weren’t blue, exactly, but they weren’t red either. They were more blue than red, was what he meant. His skin didn’t look like it had the first day, but there was a flush to his cheeks now and he didn’t look anywhere near as ashy. He was steady on his feet too.

Hunk felt a sudden stab of panic as he thought of something he hadn’t before. “Am I–”

“No, you’re not gonna turn into a vampire.” Lance’s smile was reassuring. “If that was how it worked, my stabby friend would be a vampire like, a hundred times over by now.”

“Oh,” Hunk said, then, “Right. Good.”

The panic lessened. Lance looked him up and down. “You okay, buddy?” he asked, and Hunk considered the question. He shifted from foot to foot. He felt fine. There was a tiny lingering ache in his arm but it was fading by the second, and he didn’t feel lightheaded. Maybe a little thirsty, but they were right next to a water fountain anyway.

“Yeah,” he said confidently. “I’m okay.”

Lance threw an arm around his shoulder, bared his teeth up at him in thanks and excitement.

“Then let’s go blow everyone’s socks off with our smooth dance moves.”


End file.
